Unparalleled Rivalry
by Cross-Flame
Summary: Maybe their true rivals are not the ones whom they've been beaten by or beaten themself. Maybe the true rivalry was found in how much they were the same, yet counterparts from two different worlds. And, maybe, switching places could confirm that truth. - AU, Calem/Serena, KalosShipping.


**An AU one-shot. **

**Pokemon = disowned.**

* * *

><p><strong>-Calem-<strong>

- He is unlike the tall, brave, and strong lion. He is a frail, weak, lifeless flower bud never to bloom, never to triumph. -

The blinding rays of light leaves himself lost, lost in his torn-in-between situation. All he can hear is the familiar sounds of a pained croak, making him wince.

He hears delighted cries, nonhuman ones echoing in his head repeatedly, like his conscience speaking to him unbelievable words. Like a foe's sneers and scoffs of pride choking at his throat.

He knows he's surrounded by fears and glares of disapproval. He always is. Once his neighbor came in, his competitive side always got him excited and giddy. When he started his journey as a rookie trainer, he thought he'd be the one soaring above the skies, like the gale wings of a talonflame. He thought he'd advance first, be the "best-est among the rest-est", as his mother once encouraged him. It made him sloppy to beat his "rival", despite how much the title is a lie.

- And, now, it makes him wonder — wonder why he still plays catch-up with her. -

He refuses to give up, but loss after loss, fall after fall, nothing builds up. Just scarring injuries, as far as he can remember. Step after step, he finds himself restarting from scratch, as if he took a one-way warp panel back.

- And step after step, his heartache grows deeper. -

_"Meeyuuw..."_

Everything darkens more, his surroundings but a meaningless black. He hears a mew of defeat, loss, sadness, emotionlessness. The mix of emotions is anything but alien to him. He's even heard himself say that in the exact order before, so what's the use of elemental surprise?

He feels himself tremble, knees aching out of physical pain. It feels as if his broken heart spread throughout his body. His balled fists are barely fists, as his hands weakly drop towards the floor, like a flimsy puppet reliant on a string.

He has no right to hold a grudge on this trainer, however. It's his own self that makes his gradual suicide worsen, and he can accept that. The pain he has?

- It's what he _can't. -_

He weakly smirks, his breath escaping unto the cold dark air. He can hear plip-plops falling quietly in an invisible storm, each drop like a paused silence of which one could hear an unceremonious fall of glass. His heart always has a raging rainstorm he can't make peace with; anger and sheer depression took his chance away.

He starts to laugh, an otherworldly action for him. He has never known the feeling, after the long bouts of pain encompassing his body. It just needs something to feel more...

_- ...real. -_

He often hears a certain bow-obsessed brunette sweetly sing the word "emotion", something he hasn't felt for what probably is a millennia. She spoke of _joy, shock, pride, happiness, courage _and_ bravery, _too-abstract things that make him a complete stranger to these farfetched words.

As much as that brunette is right, as much as he even caught up with his rival, as much as he spoke of renewing his rivalry, as much as it happened in a triumphant place called "Victory Road"... he can't abide to the rights of emotion and freedom of expression.

...

_"Gre...?"_

_..._

The man who calls himself Calem slowly opens his eyes, grasping his reality. Relief washes away half of his depression, seeing that the amphibian water-type's condition is fair. He offers his pokemon a sad smile, grey eyes growing to a black shade of reflection.

He finds himself sprawled at the corner of a silent room, the neat freak organization of items making him realize he's in his sweet home. He finds that he's hugging his knees, socks still on his feet. His backpack is face-down on the floor, things poured down unceremoniously, like blood found in a crime scene.

- For now, the boy is relieved. -

- But the truth, it remains the exact same. -

...

**-Serena-**

The calm vixen mage takes no painstaking effort to keep herself still, yet her naive amber eyes show solid and trembling fear.

The blonde-haired girl bites her lip, grey eyes so transparent it reflects the silent glare of her foe, as if to speak mute bickers and sneers. It looks so intense.

The tailwinds from the foe's talonflame makes her scarlet french skirt billow and dance wildly. Her fists are clenched tightly as they lay themselves on her chest, comforted by the smooth black blouse of her matching attire.

- It sounds serious, but she always knows the outcome. -

"Calm Mind."

The words are not well-spoken, nor are they thought about clearly. They sound dark, lifeless, heart-shattering if you'd like to call it that way. It does give her enough time to think if her pokemon enjoys the voice, and the bluntness in it.

- She doesn't need any pokemon-to-human translator to find out the answer. -

She absentmindedly watches the fox plant itself on the ground, eyes closed in concentration. A pink orb surrounds her pokemon, as her delphox slowly grows more focused in the battle.

She doesn't feel satisfaction as the talonflame shifts side-to-side as a sky blue aura surrounds it, slashing her pokemon. Dust fills the battlefield, as she finds herself lucky for the fire type magician on its last breath.

- Using the situation as an advantage doesn't make her feel joy. It feels lifeless. -

"Fire Blast."

Another phrase of dullness escapes her lips, her bleeding lips, as she kept biting on them for hours on end. She doesn't feel any pain, she feels only a sense of silence, deserted silence of which she eternally lives in. It's only silence she hears as she watches the probably crackling blazing flames push the fire hawk aback. She feels nothing as she watches the talonflame fall disgracefully.

- It's pathetic, how she doesn't feel even pity. -

She can see the frown of her opponent, the wails that she no longer can hear. She can see his sore eyes, his battered clothes from the heat of the battle. He offers her only one silver coin, and she knows why he doesn't give at least a thousand:

- She's beat him too many times. -

She dismisses the boy, her "rival". She believes the title is just a silly joke, nonsense, crap. If she wins all the time, then he is nothing more than a novice trainer. Or perhaps, not a trainer at all.

The vixen offers a confused pair of eyes, as she sees no smile bracing her trainer's lips. The girl named Serena wants to smile at least at her, so her pokemon will be merry. If she isn't happy, then at least they are.

- Then maybe she shouldn't live. So they'd be free to feel what they want. -

"Del? Fox del?"

Her eyes flash open, grey eyes still transparent. She finds herself lying on the cold floor, with no furnace to warm her body. Her delphox standing an inch away doesn't even warm at least her toes. The messy unclean objects are spread like a small ocean on her bed, which is left at a battered condition as well.

Delphox wags her tail, a cheerful smile tugging at its snout. "Del! Del-del!"

She wishes her delphox would pull of that real grin forever, to be a jolly and free pokemon. But, she can't smile, and unless she can't smile, then the reality is confirmed.

- It always is. -

- And how she wishes, that, somewhere, maybe even over the rainbow, there's someone who'd be happy to take her place. -

...

_Fin._


End file.
